


setting fire to our insides for fun

by steelatoms



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abusive Myra Kaspbrak, Accidental Kissing, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Christmas, Coma, Depression, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Fix-It, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, M/M, Vomiting, magical healing, suicide ideation, this is not proof read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelatoms/pseuds/steelatoms
Summary: Eddie survives the attack, but he ends up in a coma, leaving Richie to deal with the aftermath.
Relationships: Background Benverly and Implied Hanbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, past Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	setting fire to our insides for fun

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this like a month ago lmao

Eddie was dying; he knew this as soon as he was set down against the rock, his friends all staring at him with tears in their eyes.

They had figured a way to defeat Pennywise with his help, and now, one by one they were leaving his side asides from a devastated Richie, who’s hand tightly grasped his.

“This is my fault,” his bespectacled friend mournfully stated, “I shouldn’tve--” he wiped at his eyes, “Now we’re all going to fucking die.”

Eddie shook his head and though it hurt to talk through the viscous globs of his own blood that he choked up, he managed to encourage, “I don’t-- I don’t blame you, Rich. And if I die--”

_ “No--”  _ Richie’s voice cracked, “Please, Eds. Don’t talk like tha--” he broke off when he heard his other friends scream.

_ Clown. Clown. Clown. _

Eddie squeezed his hand, black dots dancing on the edge of his vision from the blood loss, “You should go to them.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Richie’s voice wavered, “I can’t just--”

Eddie gave a weak smile, “You sound like you’re pretty sweet on me.”

_ You have no idea. _

Richie’s proposed confession of his feelings danced on the tip of his tongue and although Eddie was bloody and injured and kind of gross, he wanted to kiss him.

Unfortunately, Richie, like any good comedian, thrived in his own self-hatred and fear, and though all he wanted to do was tell Eddie how he felt, it wasn’t the time.

His friends fought It behind him and he nodded once more at Eddie before running over to help them, his heart aching as their hands broke away, leaving the other man reaching out to him for a second or two before his hands fell to his side.

Eddie watched him leave, and it hurt, just as it had when Richie left Derry and as it had as each and every memory rushed back to him (Richie’s smile, his laugh, his dumb ‘your mom’ jokes). Unfortunately, he couldn’t be selfish with him, destroying It was the priority, the  _ promise. _

There was something he still wanted to say, something he had wanted to say for years, but as he mulled it over, the blood loss got the better of him and he blacked out.

* * *

When Richie returned to Eddie moments later, it was too late; his body was lifelessly slumped against the rock, his eyes closed and if not for the blood, he could have been asleep.

It was haunting and wrong and Richie clung to him helplessly, his shoulders shaking with sobs as Neibolt crumbled around them. Bill and Ben pulled him away, but before they could, he felt something jolting against his chest.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and saw that Eddie was now rasping for air, the wound in his chest knitting up by some sheer miracle. He remained unconscious, but he was  _ alive. _

Before he could mull on it any longer, a rock crashing near them caught his attention,  _ “We need to get him out of here.”  _ he was still crying, begging his friends to help him.

Ben, now easily the physically strongest of the group, nodded and threw Eddie over his shoulder like a ragdoll, and Richie couldn’t help but wince at the limp way his head fell against the other man’s shoulder.

He looked  _ dead --  _ bloody, limp and  _ dead. _

Yet still, they ran with him, lifting him up the ladder and pulling him out of Neibolt just in the nick of time.

Ben gingerly set him down on the grass whilst Bill and Mike all went to find help. Richie pulled Eddie’s body into his lap, cupping his cheek as he sobbed and begged any deity that existed to just  _ let him live. _

Beverly knelt beside him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder and taking his spare hand whilst Ben watched him with concern. He  _ loathed  _ people worrying about him, but right at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

* * *

At the hospital, the doctors were unsure about what exactly was wrong with Eddie; his physical and internal wounds had healed, but he remained comatose.

They didn’t tell the nurses that he had been impaled by a spider-clown, nobody would believe that so when they were asked, the remaining losers lied and claimed he had just fallen into such a state.

All the while, Richie remained jittery and on edge, pacing the corridors and refusing to eat.

When the nurses returned, they informed him Eddie was still unconscious, but none of them could figure out why.

Days passed, and Richie was barely able to sleep from the stress, sitting at Eddie’s bedside until he was literally dragged away by Ben. He had hundreds of missed calls from his manager, but didn’t care, just watched Eddie all day long, hoping to be there when he awoke.

Then, the inevitable storm that was Myra Kaspbrak arrived; she was a big, angry woman who even  _ looked  _ like Eddie’s mother as she stormed into the hospital room, ugly tears streaming down her face as she wailed hysterically.

_ “Oh, my poor sweet Eddie!”  _ she cried, “Oh, what have those monsters done to you?”

Richie sat awkwardly and silently in the corner, watching this woman splatter kisses over Eddie before she finally reared around and turned her attention to him like a lioness seeking out her prey.

It was then he regretted sending his friends out to go get their lunches as he hunched away from her form, her shadow casting furiously over him.

“This is your fault.” she spat him, “You and your filthy friends brought him back to this town and now he’s hurt. You’re a monster!”

Richie flinched at her words, but stood his ground, “He chose to come back. Trust me, if it were up to me--”

_ “Up to you?”  _ she scoffed, “How the fuck do you even know him? Eddie never mentioned friends.”

Richie snapped, “Yeah, because I’m sure he’d feel absolutely comfortable telling  _ you  _ about his life.”

“I love him!” Myra declared.

_ ‘Well so do I!’  _ Richie wanted to retort, but the glower on the woman’s face caused him to swallow the words.

Instead, he replied, “You’re not the only one. Eddie has a lot of people who care about him.”

“Nobody more than me.” Myra bragged, “I’m the love of his life, and when he wakes up, I’m going to protect him.”

Richie scowled, “Oh, I’m fucking sure. You know what? Fuck it. Eddie deserves better than a controlling, manipulative troll of a wife. He deserves more.” his voice trembled a little bit, “He deserves…”

“Oh, I see.” the realisation came onto Myra’s face, “You’re in love with him.”

The denial came a bit too strong and sharp, a high pitched ‘no’ that sounded completely unconvincing.

Myra laughed bitterly, and Richie’s gaze dropped, “You’re in love with my husband, which is why you’ve been here every single day since. Well, guess what, sunshine? Eddie loves  _ me  _ and there’s no fucking way in hell he’d ever love you.”

Richie swallowed back tears at that statement, fearing she was right, “I’m-- I’m here because he’s a friend. I’m here to support him.”

“Well guess what? I’m his next of kin, so legally, I can decide whether you have visitation rights.”

Richie’s head shot up in panic, “No. Wait. Please.” he begged, “Please, you can’t. You can’t ban me. I need to know if he’s okay. Please. Please don’t do this, I’m begging you.”

“You called me a troll.” Myra glared.

Richie’s eyes stung with tears, “I’m sorry. Just-- Please. Please-- Please. Don’t fuck--- don’t do this. Please. Fuck.”

“Get out.” she demanded simply, and Richie’s heart ached in his chest.

“Please.” he whimpered one last time, but the seething anger in her glare was enough to send him away, glancing one last time at the sleeping Eddie before leaving, tears streaming down his face as he attempted to hold back the sobs.

He didn’t text the other Losers, too upset to and instead headed to the closest bar, ordering a straight whiskey, then another, then another until everything became a blur.

At one point, about two hours later, Ben came into the bar, sighing heavily in relief as he joined his inebriated his friend.

“Rich, thank God.” Ben clapped his shoulder, “We couldn’t find you anywhere, we were worried sick.”

Richie snorted a drunken laugh, “I met Eddie’s wife, you know. Big, big woman. Not fat-shaming because you used to be big and I love you, but she is one big, terrifying, awful woman.”

“She banned us too.” Ben’s hand rubbed his back, “I’m sorry.”

Richie shrugged dramatically, “It doesn’t fucking matter. I mean, I still have my failing comedy career and you guys, don’t I?”

“Rich… I’m serious.” Ben sighed, “It wasn’t right for her to do that, and if there’s a legal loophole--”

Richie interjected, “Don’t worry, Benny boy. I don’t care. What about you, huh? At-- At least one of us can do this shit right. You and Bev, I’m-- I’m happy for you.” he gave a dazed smile.

“Let’s not focus on that.” Ben studied him, concerned, “You looked wrecked.”

Richie snorted a laugh, “Thanks,  _ Haystack. _ You on the other hand look hot as ever. Lucky Bev.  _ Mmm.”  _ he rested his head in the crook of Ben’s neck, “Fuck, you’re so warm.”

“Rich, I think I should take you home.” Ben stiffened, pulling away.

Richie pouted, “But I was about to order a strawberry daiquiri.”

  
“I think you’re done.”

Richie slurred, “Always takin’ care of people.”

“You’re my friend and I care about you.” Ben gave a small, encouraging smile, “I love you, man, and I don’t want to see you destroy yourself.”

Ben’s words touched the emotional Richie, who then, in a moment of confusion and drunkeness, surged forward and pressed his lips against Ben’s.

He instantly pulled away, eyes wide as he mumbled, “I’m sorry.” people were staring, and his heart was pounding.

_ I know your secret, _

_ Your dirty little secret! _

Ben’s gaze didn’t hold any of the accusatory hatred that the other bar patrons’ did, however, and the architect simply rested a comforting hand on his arm and promised, “It’s okay.”

“I think I should go home.” Richie’s voice broke, and he nearly fell off the bar stool, earning more stares and mutters.

Ben helped steady him, nodding, “Sure.” he helped him to the car.

* * *

The drive back to the inn was uncomfortable at best, especially with Richie vomiting no less than three times. By the time he was inside, he looked rough.

“The others are still looking for you.” Ben informed, “I’ll text them once you get to bed.”

Richie nodded, looking extremely pale and sickly, “I don’t need you to help me.”

“I’m not letting you climb the stairs on your own, and I have to make sure you don’t sleep on your back.” Ben put an arm around him.

Richie grumbled, “I’m not going to choke to death.” but let Ben help him anyway.

The architect took off his shoes and socks, then placed his glasses on the side table before helping Richie into bed, making sure to lie him on his side before getting up to leave. He was almost out the door when a quiet noise caught his attention.

He turned around and noticed that Richie was covering his face with his hands, his body trembling as he attempted to stifle the soft sobs that escaped him. Ben turned around, frozen to the spot for a few seconds before he came to sit on the bed, sitting Richie back up so he could pull him into a tight hug.

Richie choked and cried into the crook of his neck until he finally fell asleep, and though Ben had thirty missed messages and calls from his friends, he didn’t reply until he was certain Richie was safe.

* * *

After that night, things didn’t exactly get easier; days turned into weeks, and eventually, Bill had to return to his increasingly anxious wife. Mike followed, finally leaving Derry.

Almost a whole month after defeating It, Beverly and Ben decided to move away, much to Richie’s chagrin; whilst the two deserved their fairytale ending far away from the shithole that was Derry, they had been his only source of comfort for the past weeks, between Ben encouraging him to eat and shower to Beverly holding him in her lap after the nightmares that came each night.

Still, the last thing Richie wished for anybody was to be stuck in Derry, and they offered him to come with, but the ache in his heart denied them, not wanting to be away from Eddie.

Instead, he bought his own crappy apartment, continuing to screen his manager’s calls until the inevitable ‘you’re fired’ text came.

He kept in contact with the other Losers as often as he could, but each day was a drag, moment to moment being drawn out like some kind of sick torture.

When Stanley’s letter came, he was surprised; nobody really knew his address, and it wasn’t until he saw that Mike had taken the liberty to forward both his and Eddie’s that he truly understood. Myra refused to accept the letter unsurprisingly, so it remained on Richie’s desk, almost mocking him.

It took him an entire month for him to get around to reading the note, and as he read it, he couldn’t help but sob. In his hands he held what remained of Stan, his final thoughts, his final words to his friends.

There was one part that stuck out to him, however.

_ Be who you want to be. Be proud. _

Some time during the third month, he went to the old kissing bridge, trying not to think about the murder that had taken place there as he found his old carving.

Staring across from him, faded but still there, read two letters, joined by a plus sign.

_ R + E. _

Richie and Eddie.

He recarved the letters, eyes welling with tears as he did so, his thumb tracing it afterwards. Thirteen year old him had carved the message in a moment of hopelessness and despair, with his love for Eddie being the only thing good in his life, even as all his friends fell out.

The loneliest summer, defined by lost love and self-hatred as Bowers’ voice rung in his ears.

Part of him was still in that arcade, being ridiculed and ogled, and that fear that kept him there would always remain.

All he wanted was to see Eddie again, but Myra wouldn’t allow it, and even if he did, even if Eddie woke up, what would he tell him?

_ Sorry I got you stabbed? _

_ Sorry I called your wife a troll. _

_ Sorry that I have been irrevocably in love with you since we were children, it doesn’t make any fucking sense and you should hate me but please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me-- _

None of this made sense to him, how he was so hurt by all of this, how looking at a set of letters made him want to hurl himself over the bridge. He loved Eddie so much it physically hurt, and he didn’t even know if he was okay, if he was going to be okay.

_ If you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go. _

Stan’s words haunted him, and although he wanted to honour him, if he didn’t move on, it would literally kill him, and he would kindly let it.

When he returned to his apartment, he began to pack his things, shoving things into a bag before going to book a flight away from Maine, going anywhere. He just had some affairs to get in order and he would be out of the hellhole.

* * *

Eddie Kaspbrak awoke on the 24th of December, 2016 at around 10am, and it was like awakening from the world’s least refreshing slumber.

Myra was at his side in an instant, sobbing in happiness and calling the doctors as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Where’s Rich?” he asked, and Myra’s look of offense was comical.

She replied after a second, “You mean that disgusting comedian? Oh, he lives here in Derry, but I felt it was best that he didn’t visit.”

“You banned him?” Eddie looked confused, “What the fuck, Myra?”

She picked at his hair, “I’m only doing what’s best for you, Eddie-Bear--”

He pulled away suddenly and snapped, “Best for  _ you,  _ you mean? I mean, what the hell? He’s my friend. They’re  _ all  _ my friends. No, scratch that. Family.”

_ “Some family.”  _ Myra commented, “They nearly got you killed. Imagine how I would feel if that happened.”

Eddie retorted, “This isn’t about you. I made a decision, the least you could do is respect it.”

“No, honey-bun.” Myra sneered, “I love you, and I want to protect you?”

Eddie scoffed, “From  _ Richie?  _ No, fuck you. Fuck this. I want a fucking divorce.”

“Wh-- What?”

Eddie peeled all the wires off his chest, despite Myra’s protests, “You heard.” he shakily climbed out of the hospital bed, “I want to leave.”

Finally, the doctor arrived, out of breath, “Mr. Kaspbrak, I’m going to have to ask you to--”

“I’m not staying, doctor.” Eddie found a box with his clothes by Myra’s feet and grabbed some of them, “And don’t try to convince me. I hate hospitals. What date is it?”

The doctor replied, confused, “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Shit, I’ve been out for three months? Fuck.” he changed into a pair of joggers and a hoodie, “Hey, just send me the medical bill, okay? I have a man I have to talk to.”

Myra stood up, “I can’t let you--”

“There’s no ‘letting’!” Eddie interrupted, “I’m a grown-ass man, and I am not in love with you. I’m sorry, but I’m not. I love Richie. Now, do you have his address, or do I have to go door-to-door like a complete fucking idiot?”

Myra sighed, then reluctantly told him the address, watching Eddie sprint out of the room with a murmured ‘thanks’.

  
  


* * *

Richie’s flight was set for December 27th, headed up to New York where Ben and Beverly were currently staying. His plan was to surprise them for New Year, especially since it coincided with the release and press tour of Bill’s new novel, which hopefully would be spared a dour ending, especially since his unhappy marriage was over and done with now.

Strangely enough, Bill had been hanging out with Mike a lot recently, with the librarian staying at the author’s house for the past couple of weeks.

He was all packed to go, planning to skip Christmas altogether due to his honestly quite terrible year. Then there was a knock at his door, and whilst he prepared to be assaulted by awful carol singing, what he saw instead caught him so off-guard that he nearly collapsed.

Standing before him was Eddie; beautiful, living Eddie.

“Hey, Rich.” Eddie gave a small smile.

Richie’s eyes filled with tears,  _ “Eds.” _

“I’ve told you, don’t call me E--  _ Mmph!”  _ he was cut off by Richie literally slamming his lips against his, only to pull away almost instantly.

He remembered Ben’s reaction and apologised meekly, only for Eddie to cup his cheek and pull him down into another kiss, their chests flush against each other. This kiss was softer, but the desperation remained as they kissed each other breathless, pulling away to rest their foreheads against each other.

_ “I love you, Eddie.”  _ Richie admitted, and it felt like a weight lifted off his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Eddie’s thumb tenderly swiped away those tears as he murmured, “I love you too.”

“The others are going to have one hell of a Christmas surprise.” Richie joked, his voice cracking.

Eddie smiled, “Yep, but if it’s okay, I’d like to just stay with you for a few hours, wait a bit. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Sap.” Richie snarked, his first snide comment in months.

Eddie retorted, “Fuck you.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” Richie retorted.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “I just woke up from a coma, man.”

“Still, we should see just how much of a Christmas miracle this is.” Richie smirked.

Eddie smiled, “Okay, you teenager. But we should talk first. Because I’ve missed a lot.”

“Yes you have.” Richie smiled back, “Okay, young Padawan. Into my temple you come and I will bring you up to date. We should figure this all out anyway.”

Eddie nodded, “Yes, yes we should.” he walked into Richie’s apartment, then grabbed Richie by the lapels of his shirt, “But first, smooches.”

_ “Naturally.” _

**Author's Note:**

> follow my twitter @steelatoms and my tumblr @bisexualseg-el
> 
> kudos/comments are very appreciated
> 
> happy holigays!


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